Stonathan ❤️

1

Not mine!!!
Credit goes to :
listlessness from ao3

If Jonathan had to pick one part of Steve that he loved the most, it would be his skin. So many people would rave about his hair, how thick and lush it was, and the effort he put in styling it. While Jonathan would have to admit that yes, something was to be said about Steve's ridiculous hair, it didn't hold a flame to his skin.

Steve was perpetually warm, his skin hot to touch, even in the dead of winter. His skin was soft and smooth, and wasn't covered in sticky and pungent chemicals, like his hair sprayed locks. A deep glow radiated from his skin, even as the sun hid behind clouds and hung low in the sky during winter. The freckles and moles that danced over his skin were a game of hide and seek, and Jonathan loved to join, playing connect-the-dots with his fingertips. Steve's back became home to constellations of stars, within giraffes and flowers and crawling insects. The patterns would disappear under his clothes, and it would be Jonathan's job to find them.

The early spring sun had brought with it longer days. Jonathan's bedroom window was positioned in such a way that during the first days of March the sun would set between the twisted branches of the copse of trees on the fence line. His room would fill with a stream of colours, orange and pink and red. There was a small wind chime his grandmother had bought him years ago, which he'd deliberately hung up in front of the window just so that during those few weeks, he'd get to see the colours catch on the stained glass that dangled down from it. It would dance across his wall like a kaleidoscope of broken fragments.

Steve was standing in front of it that afternoon. The light was playing across his face, reds passing through shards of blue to become purple. Pink light cascaded over his cheek and throat, while yellow caught in his hair. He wasn't doing anything in particular; his arms were above his head and his shirt was riding up around his navel, revealing miles of tanned skin with a smattering of hair that disappeared under his jeans. Jonathan's fingers itched to take a photo, even as Steve's arms dropped back down to his sides and he turned to look over at him.

'What?' Steve asked, tilting his head a little when he saw Jonathan smiling at him. 'What is it?'

Jonathan smiled and shook his head.

'Nothing,' he said, and then, because it wasn't quite true, 'everything.'

He took a step towards Steve. One, two, three, five, nine, ten, until he had crossed the room and was standing beside him. The colours continued to dance over his face, each freckle and mole that lived on Steve's cheek and neck seeming to be so much darker as a result. Reaching up, Jonathan's fingers brushed over each one, until two fingers were on his jaw, another two on his neck. Steve's eye twitched a little; he never quite seemed to know how to respond when Jonathan was studying him, gazing upon him with his photographer's eye.

'What- '

Steve started to speak, but his words were cut short when Jonathan lifted his chin up and licked at two of the lowest freckles, which sat high on his throat, just under his jaw. He could feel Steve take a breath and swallow against his tongue as he drew a line from one freckle to the next. Dropping his hand, he carefully pushed Steve's hair back behind his ear and took a step around him. He kissed each freckle and mole as he moved in a lazy arc, feeling Steve shiver against his mouth and hand until he was pressed up behind him. There were more freckles here, often hidden by his hair and collars that he wore popped up. Pushing his long hair up and collar down, Jonathan kissed them all.

Standing behind Steve, Jonathan could look straight through the stained glass wind chime and through to the sunset outside. The colours collected on Steve's face and shirt, a radiant hue that resembled a rainbow that Jonathan found himself tracing. He followed the cut of one pane of glass across Steve's cheek, another down the front of his throat. His fingers ghosted over the cotton of his shirt, until he worked his way down to the hem. Taking hold of it, he pulled it up. Steve's arms lifted obediently, until it was pulled clean off and tossed aside.